


The Weaver

by Myrtle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Character Study, Gen, overwrought spiderweb metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrtle/pseuds/Myrtle
Summary: Varys keeps to his corner, a solitary mind in a solitary room, and he sits with his secrets.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The Weaver

Sometimes, Varys wishes he were not quite so solitary. When he returns to his chambers and lets the smile melt off his face, and his hands relax at his sides, and if he whispers to himself it’s in his natural voice, and he is truly alone — the austere rooms can feel very empty at those times, and he imagines a companion would be welcome. Not a bedwarmer or anything of that sort, never that, but someone to simply share his thoughts with. Someone who could listen to him talk through all the secrets and plots that he dares not write down.

But there is none such.

His little birds are his alone, true, and they do provide some pleasure, sweet as they are. But their purpose is to pour their secrets out to him, and his role is to be a vessel for their information. To receive, and nothing more. They are hardly fit for confiding in.

There is always Littlefinger, perhaps the closest he has to a friend in King’s Landing, the only one who is even attempting to play the same game he is. And he does enjoy watching Littlefinger play, the way a skilled knight might enjoy his rival’s performance in a tourney. It is such a delight to catch Petyr’s eye with a smirk, when he finally puts together some juicy detail that Varys has been sitting on for months. But dear Petyr is ultimately a slave to his cock, as most men are, his cock and his ego. Varys cannot truly respect a man who serves nothing more than his own petty ambitions, nor speak to him as an equal.

He has no choice but to share confidences with Illyrio, of course. He knows more of Varys’s plans than anyone, to be sure, and they share a purpose for the most part. But Illyrio’s only true loyalty is to Illyrio’s money, and Varys knows that when it comes right down to it, there’s no reason to think he can trust his old friend any more than he trusts anyone else. Which is not at all.

So he keeps his own counsel. A plan is only shared with Illyrio when it is fully formed, when it’s already been picked apart and examined and put back together in his mind, by him alone. There is so much that exists only in his mind, sometimes he feels he’ll go mad from it. Sometimes he wonders if he hasn’t already, if he’s the maddest of them all, if it’s all a great delusion, this edifice he’s built up of plans and alternate plans and alternates to alternates, layer upon layer of interlocking wheels and cogs and contingencies.

A spider’s web is made of such thin threads. Perhaps it can only exist in this bare little room, this forgotten corner of the Red Keep. For in the world outside, the winds blow. Even with all his knowledge, he could never predict the wind, and he can imagine everything he’s built being blown away when exposed, scattered as if it were never there at all.

But this is not a cobweb, he reminds himself, some accidental accumulation of dust, waiting to be swept away. This is a _web,_ intentionally woven. It is thin and flexible, yes, but that is the source of its strength. The empty spaces are as much a part of its structure as its strings are, and they are what allows it to bend before it breaks. There is much uncertainty, to be sure, but he is not fool enough to ignore it. He is quiet and quick, as a spider must be, and he knows what he doesn’t know. He will adapt, come what may.

And so he keeps to his corner, a solitary mind in a solitary room, and he sits with his secrets. He considers, and plans, and weaves, until his web is enormous and beautiful in its complexity. And he can believe that when the winds come, it will withstand them. It will catch what he needs it to. And the realm will be all the better for it.

It _will._

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I decided to write a character study of Varys when I really don't know what his actual motivations are lol.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, comments and kudos are very appreciated :)


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